Crossroads
by scarylolita
Summary: After getting a fresh taste of Ikebukuro's dark underbelly, Izaya finds out that one seemingly awful and pointless event can have life altering consequences. Shizaya.


**Durarara! © Ryohgo Narita.**

**Enjoy ~ R&amp;R. **

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The lack of control was the worst part. That's what scared Izaya the most. For someone used to having all the control, suddenly losing it was a horror that cannot be explained in words. Yes, there was pain, but the loss of control is what Izaya fears he will never get over. He doesn't remember being let go. He doesn't remember getting up, pulling himself together, or walking to Shinra's flat, but here he is.

Shizuo raises an eyebrow at Izaya's messy state. "What the fuck is with you?" he asks insensitively. The dark haired man looks awful. His skin is paler than usual and he has a bruise growing below his right eye. His clothing is dishevelled and he looks like he can barely hold himself up.

Izaya doesn't speak. He can't bring himself to. Shizuo finds this strange. Shinra saunters around the corner a moment later and he doesn't need to ask questions to understand. He is a doctor after all. "Izaya," he gestures gently for him to come inside. Without a word, Izaya follows him into a private room and they close the door.

Shizuo stands outside the door and listens as Shinra asks Izaya seemingly pointless questions.

"_How is business?" _

"_It's fine." _

"_How is Shiki treating you?" _

"_Fair." _

"_Is Namie annoying as ever?" _

"_Of course." _

"_What are all the kids up to these days?" _

"_Same tricks." _

"_Have you seen Mikado or Kida around?" _

"_A while ago." _

"_Been bugging Shizuo?" _

"_Of course." _

Shinra continues to ask questions and Izaya gives short, curt replies. For once, there is no humour in his tone. There is no cynicism or coldness either. Something is amiss and soon the questions stop. Shinra probably ran out of ideas. This is when Shizuo hears it. The crying. For some reason, he doesn't like it. He doesn't like it one bit, and he doesn't understand why. He should just laugh it off. It's Izaya, after all. Izaya, who never lets him have any peace of mind. Izaya, who makes his life a living hell and smiles while he does it. Izaya, who is constantly demanding his attention. Izaya, the bane of his fucking existence.

From the other side of the door, he hears Izaya's quiet sobs. It's a sound he never imagined he would hear Izaya make. It's unsettling. With quiet feet, Shizuo walks away from the door and into the living room. He sits on the sofa and turns the television on, aimlessly flicking through channels. He tries to occupy himself, but it doesn't work because he can't get the damned sound of Izaya crying out of his head.

It's been an uneventful day – that's why Shizuo is here. Celty insisted he come over, but she had to deliver a package so it was just Shinra and Shizuo until a few minutes ago. For most of the day, Shizuo has been watching television and listening to Shinra talk about pointless things. It's not thrilling, but it's better than being alone. He's wearing a pair of ugly, blue track pants and a white t-shirt. He rarely leaves the house looking so casual, but there are days when it's hard to care.

A short while later, Shizuo hears the door open. Shinra and Izaya exit, the smaller man walks with a poorly disguised hitch in his step and that's when it all clicks.

"Shizuo?" Shinra says.

"What?" the blond asks gruffly, staring blankly at the wall and as far away from Izaya as possible.

"Could you walk Izaya back to his apartment?" Shinra requests.

Shizuo doesn't bother asking why. He's the strongest man in Ikebukuro. Perhaps even in all of Japan. Now that he understands what happened, he can almost smell it on Izaya. "C'mon," he mumbles, standing up and gesturing for the informant to follow. Izaya trails after him silently. He looks pained. Shizuo would offer him a hand, but he knows that Izaya would only be insulted.

"Aren't you going to ask?" he wonders as they leave Shinra's home.

"No," Shizuo says in an uncharacteristically soft voice.

"Why not?"

"I already know," he admits. "I pieced it together… I heard you crying."

"I see," Izaya murmurs, voice withering like dead flowers. There is shame in his tone. He doesn't say anything more and neither does Shizuo. They fall into a silence and fortunately, the walk is short.

When they arrive to the familiar apartment, Shizuo saunters inside after Izaya. "I'll hang around for a while," he offers.

Izaya simply nods. "I'm taking a shower," he states before disappearing in the bathroom.

Shizuo wanders into the living room, taking a seat on the dark-colored sofa. He picks up the TV remote and aimlessly channel surfs some more. Izaya stays in the bathroom for a long time, but Shizuo doesn't question it. He'd probably do the same. Unfortunately, not all dirt can be washed away and the worst scars are the ones that can't be seen.

When Izaya finally leaves the bathroom, he's in a pair of cotton grey pajama pants and a black, long-sleeved shirt. Shizuo finds it strange, never having seen the informant so dressed down. Apart from that, he Izaya looks himself again. He looks smug and cold.

"Shizu-chan," he greets carelessly.

"What?" Shizuo says stupidly, taken aback. Izaya's apathetic mask is once again firmly in place.

"Hm?" he questions.

Shizuo sneers at him. "Don't pretend you've already recovered."

"Oh, but I am," he promises. "I'm perfectly fine. This isn't the first unpleasant surprise I've had the misfortune of encountering and surely, it won't be the last."

Shizuo gapes at him. "You've gotta be fucking kidding!" he growls. "It's not something a person needs to get used to! Let it out! Be angry!"

"Why?" Izaya asks. "What good will that do?"

"It'll make you _feel_ better," Shizuo says in a loud, angry tone.

The informant lets out a surprised laugh. "And since when does Shizuo Heiwajima care about Izaya Orihara's feelings?"

"I don't," Shizuo insists.

"You're lying," Izaya calls him out.

"I'm not gonna kick you when you're down," Shizuo murmurs.

"How honourable!" Izaya exclaims cynically. "Shizu-chan, you're such a hero!" He sits down next to the blond, latching onto his arm.

Shizuo lightly tries to shake him off, but his grip is iron. Since he doesn't _really_ want to hurt Izaya, he stops.

"Do you want to know what the worst part of it was?" Izaya asks carelessly.

"What?" Shizuo whispers.

"This man… there was nothing special about him. He wasn't part of any gang I've ever come across. He wasn't particularly strong looking. He wasn't quick either." Izaya pauses, closing his eyes and sighing. "He just happened to catch me off guard. At first, he didn't even know who I was. But when I was forced down he got a good look at me and I knew he realized it. Now he's got something to brag about. He fucked the mafia's _selective _slut. It's always been my choice. Tonight it wasn't."

"Tsk," Shizuo clicks his tongue. "C'mon, don't call yourself that…"

"What? It's true," the informant says, shifting even closer to the ex-bartender. "You know it," he whispers, "and I know it."

In a swift motion, Shizuo pushes Izaya away and pins him down on the sofa, hovering over him and staring down at his shocked expression. "Nothing pisses me off more than people trash talking themselves!" he shouts. Sure, he's heard the rumours of Izaya _entertaining_ wealthy men for information, but he never wanted to believe it was actually true. Then again, he shouldn't be so surprised. Izaya is incredibly manipulative.

"Why?" Izaya asks, staring up at the monster.

"People are supposed to love themselves!" Shizuo shouts some more, tightening his grip on Izaya's arms.

"But you don't love yourself," he says. "If you don't practise what you preach, your words mean nothing."

Shizuo lets out a sharp breath. "I used to hate myself," he admits. "I used to hate my strength… but I don't anymore."

"Is it love, Shizu-chan?" Izaya asks, bitterness evident in his tone. "Do you love yourself?"

The blond scoffs lightly. "Not yet, but I'm getting there."

"How lovely," Izaya murmurs, turning his head to the side so he isn't forced to look up at Shizuo any longer. "You're hurting me, you know…"

Shizuo lets him go a moment later, sitting up. "This apathy you practise is bullshit," he says flatly. "It's all a lie. No one is that cold. You probably do it to cope with all the shit life hands you."

"What do you know about my life, Shizu-chan?" Izaya asks tartly before answering his own question. "Nothing."

"I know that tonight you experienced something pretty fuckin' shitty," he says. "I know that you're lying when you say you don't care."

"Oh, please," Izaya laughs. "I'm sure you've had just as many careless fucks as I have. Don't victimize me."

"That's besides the point," Shizuo snaps. "This isn't about me! It's about you!"

"I wrote you an anonymous love letter when we were in high school," Izaya admits, trying to change the subject and get a rise out of the blond man.

"That… that was you…?" Shizuo asks in a murmur. He still has that letter. He keeps it in a drawer in his room.

"Yes, me," Izaya says. "I bet you spent a long time trying to figure out who wrote it. You probably imagined a girl. You probably had this clear image in your mind – what she looked like, her mannerisms, the way she spoke… Now you find out, years later, that it was just me. Are you disappointed?"

"Always playing your fucking games," Shizuo grits out, angry at himself for always falling for Izaya's traps.

Izaya finally sits back up, inching towards Shizuo and resting his chin on the monster's shoulder. "I bet there's a part of you that enjoys the chase," he says, whispering the words into Shizuo's ear. "Come on, Shizu-chan… you know what to do. Dominate me. Isn't that what you want? You would win and this game would finally be over."

Shizuo shivers, forcing out a scoff. "You wish."

"Do I?" Izaya wonders. He lifts himself up and reposition himself on Shizuo's lap, curling his arms around the blond's neck.

"What the fuck?" Shizuo hisses. Izaya imply stares at him, looking straight into his eyes. It feels like his soul is being explored and he can't help but look away. "Fucking stop," he demands in a mutter.

"No," Izaya retorts. He leans forward and touches his lips to Shizuo's, surprised and satisfied when he feels the brute kiss back.

"No, stop!" the blond suddenly shouts, grabbing Izaya by the shoulders. "This isn't supposed to happen!"

"Why?" he asks. "Just because I was hurt? Am I supposed to start crying and screaming about how unfair the world is?"

"I don't fucking know," Shizuo admits.

"You know what they say about me," Izaya says. "I don't have a soul. I'm just proving them right."

"But you _do_ have a fucking soul!" Shizuo shouts. "I've seen it!"

Izaya's eyes narrow. "How?"

"If you didn't have a soul, you wouldn't be capable of feeling things," the blond explains, "but I know that isn't true. You cried! Izaya Orihara, the infamous informant, actually fucking cried tonight! You cried because you were hurt and it's understandable!"

"Shut up," Izaya demands weakly, standing up and moving away.

"No!" Shizuo growls. "You're pissing me off right now! You're lying to yourself!"

"Shut up!" Izaya demands yet again, louder this time. His eyes glaze over, suppressed emotions slowly becoming visible.

"NO!"

"SHUT UP!" Izaya screams, closing his eyes and covering his ears with the palms of his hands. "Shut up, shut up, shut up! You don't know anything!"

"You're twenty-four years old," Shizuo says calmly. "You're too young to know so much about the darkest parts of humanity. When you say you love humans… sometimes I think you're lying. How could you hold so much love for a breed of creatures this fucking cruel?"

Izaya lets out a keening sound, followed by a string of loud sobs. "You don't know anything…" he repeats, choking out the words. He curls his fingers through his hair, pulling on the strands.

"I know a few things," Shizuo insists, getting up. He stands in front of Izaya, reaching towards the informant and slowly untangling pale fingers from dark hair.

Izaya closes his glassy eyes in an attempt to stop the tears from falling but they keep coming. "Damn," he whispers to himself, letting his hands fall to his sides. "Not now…"

Shizuo sighs, cupping Izaya's face in his hands and smudging the tear tracks with his thumbs. "There's no going back this time," he says.

"Is there ever?" Izaya asks.

"I guess not," Shizuo admits. He can't help but wonder what Ikebukuro would think about the murderous monster and the sociopathic informant experiencing a moment like this. It's hardly a quiet moment, but it's a moment that will change them both. It takes a lot to cry. Crying is usually a private thing, but these tears aren't private. Shizuo is seeing them. In a way, he's seeing into Izaya's soul yet again – further proof that he does indeed have one.

Izaya leans forward, pressing his face into Shizuo's strong chest. "Shizu-chan…"

"Yeah?" the blond asks, putting a hand on the back of Izaya's head, lightly touching his hair.

"Shizu-chan…" the nickname comes out weakly.

"Yeah," the blond repeats. It's not a question this time. "I'll stay." A moment later, he feels Izaya nod his head against his sternum before they part.

Shizuo follows him into a dark room that turns out to be Izaya's bedroom. It's classy, in a minimalist kind of way – just like the rest of the informant's house. He never imagined he'd be setting foot in Izaya's house, least of all his bedroom. Things change. In the shortest of moments, a person's entire world can be turned upside down. That is what happened tonight. That is what happened when Izaya showed up on Shinra's doorstep. Shizuo can't help but wonder what would have happened if he spent the day at home instead. Would he have been just as cruel to Izaya the next time they met on the streets of Ikebukuro? Probably. He surely would have been oblivious to Izaya's suffering. He'd write off the bruise as someone finally giving Izaya the hard punch he deserved. He wouldn't understand what really happened.

Sometimes it's too hard to be kind. Izaya taught Shizuo that countless times, but things are changing. Things are always changing. Because of this, people are always moving forward, never back.

Izaya lies down, moving over and making room for Shizuo. The blond gets under the covers next to Izaya, neither of them saying a word.

"That love letter…" Shizuo mentions hoarsely after a long silence. "Was it a joke, or did you really feel that way?"

"You tell me," Izaya says, playful humour evident in his tone.

Someday, maybe. For now, they'll just sleep and when morning comes, they'll welcome it together.


End file.
